Is This The Way Of The Church?

My grandfather is suffering from Alzheimers. His disease has no treatment or cure, in other words it's a one-way street. It has come to a point where he cannot remember any of his grandchildren, friends or relatives. He only remembers my grandmother, who is patiently tending to his needs and standing by him as his mental health deteriorates. The epitome of Through sickness and health...

The only thing my grandfather lives for right now is for his Catholic faith. As a communion minister, he religiously attends mass every Friday and Sunday to serve the Body of Christ. It could be the comfort of routine or the comfort in prayer and faith that draws him to church every week.

For the past few months, my grandfather has started the habit of taking a few pieces of the Host and places them in his pocket so that he can consume the Eucharist every other day of the week that he doesn't attend mass. Many from the church frowned upon this action, as the Eucharist acts as the Body of Christ and you are not allowed to take it home, let alone put it in your pocket.

My grandmother, embarrassed by his actions tried to stop him from doing it, threatening him that they won't be able to go back to church if he keeps this up. Of course, none of this made any sense to my grandfather and he continued to smuggle little pieces of the Eucharist back home in his pocket.

My grandparents have been attending mass in St Johns for over 5 decades, so of course they are considered regulars. They sit at the same pew, week after week, other parishioners know them by name, so surely they know that he's been suffering from this for a while, no?

So last Sunday, when my grandparents attended mass, my grandfather went to the alter to perform his weekly service. He not only took a few pieces of the Host but after serving the congregation he went to the choir and asked them if they have received Holy Communion. He may have asked out of concern, them singing the communion hymn may not have given them the chance to receive Communion, but we all don't know how his mind works anymore.

Seeing this action by my grandfather, the resident priest of St John's called him up to the alter, during mass, in front of the entire congregation and had a few words with him. Of course, none of us will ever know what the Father said to my grandfather, but I think we can guess the gist of what he said.

After embarrassing my grandparents in a huge cathedral, the Father continued the service. After it ended, my grandmother, took it upon herself to apologise to the priest for my grandfather's actions. She also said that it would be wise to attend mass at a different church.

Instead of giving my grandmother compassion and offering a solution to her, he agreed with her. He thought that it was a good idea to attend masses at a different church. Can you believe it?

What man of God turns people away from their church? What man turns away an 80-year old man and his wife from the place of worship that they have loyally attended every Sunday? What human being doesn't understand?

I can't get over how dismissive the priest was with my grandparents. How can you willingly ask someone to leave their place of worship? Isn't the foundation of Christianity forgiveness? My grandfather isn't well, I understand that he may make other parishioners uncomfortable but does that mean you take away the one thing in his life that he looks forward to every week?

If you were in my shoes, what would you do? Would you speak to the priest? Would you kick up a fuss?

Shame on you Father, how do you look yourself in the mirror and claim yourself to be a man of God? Aren't you supposed to lead by example? It is instances like these that you realise that religion is just a man-made institution. As long as you have pure faith in your heart, nobody can take away the love God has for you...even if they are a 'priest'.

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

Auntie Tossy's Tahu Sambal

Caution: Taking photographs of yourself cooking is not a smart idea at all. Please do not try this stunt at home. I mean, try the recipe, just don't take self portraits...

Another favourite dish of mine would have to be my Aunty Tossy's Tahu Sambal. I never knew how easy it was to make this dish until today. If you like simple recipes, this is definitely one for you. Try it out and I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

I used about 6 cubes of tahu and sliced them into rectangles as shown above. Then pan fry them until they are slightly brown on both sides and keep aside.

Soak a handful of udang kering (dried prawns) in a bowl of water for about 20 minutes. This reconstitues the prawns and makes it soft. Blend the udang kering and a clove of garlic in a food processor. Heat some oil in a pan and saute the dried prawns and garlic until it's wangi (fragrant).

Add in 2 teaspoons of chili powder (you can add more if you like it spicier) and about half a cup of water and let the mixture simmer.

Add in some tomato sauce to create a sweet and sour taste and throw in the tahu you fried earlier. Simmer for a short while more and your sambal is done!

Here it is...Aunty Tossy's Tahu Sambal. Just the way I like it...

For The Love Of Curry Leaves!

Unfortunately, I will not be able to share with you, the recipe for the Green Chili Pickle due to 'gotta-keep-some-recipes-secret' reasons but the photographs were so nice that I just had to share them with you...

So the only ingredient that my mother forgot to buy from the store were curry leaves so my mother made me go pluck some from our tree in the back. Judging by our sad little tree, my mom was not very impressed with the leaves I plucked for her. 

Here I am, posing with the stalk of curry leaves from our potted plant. I was so thrilled by the experience of actually using the leaves from a plant grown by my parents. Don't laugh at me! Have you personally plucked leaves from a tree in your backyard and used them for cooking?

Because my mother was not happy with the quality of our curry leaves, she made me climb the hill in our backyard and pluck curry leaves from the tree on the hill. Having never done it herself, she didn't realise how steep the bloody bukit was. She calls it a slope, I call it Everest!

I can't share the recipe with you, but I can surely share the ingredients. All you need to do is figure out when to add what...

I've never tried any pickles with urundu dhall before. Have you?

Oops, I made a mess of the urundu dhall when I tried to put back in the packet.

Here's the final product...Green Chili Pickle!

Momma's Sardine Curry

I took an interest in cooking almost 2 years ago when I just got tired of saying "No Aunty, I don't know how to cook." Many aunties, without fail, made a face and laughed "Aiyo, don't worry la, can buy food outside right?" Being true to my competitive nature I took it upon myself to learn how to cook. I started themed dinner night every Saturday with my closest friends. I roasted chicken, made hummus, tabouleh, sticky toffee pudding, bread and butter pudding and many other yummy dishes. I very quickly realised that cooking was not that difficult and just a matter of knowing when to add in your ingredients.

Now that my mom is back in town because of Nat's school holidays, she decided to teach me some Asian curry dishes to satisfy my Indian hubby's palate. After all isn't the way to a man's heart through his beer belly? 

So the menu for dinner tonight was going to be my Mother's sardine curry, Aunty Tossy's tahu (tofu) sambal and green chili pickle. And I am going to share with you, two out of the three recipes that have been in my family recipe book for years...to start the ball rolling...

Momma's Sardine Curry

One of the simplest and cheapest dishes you can make and feed an entire family. Almost every Malaysian woman will have their own version of their mother's sardine curry and this is mine...

What makes a sardine curry? Chili powder, meat (or fish) curry powder, onions, tomatoes, eggs (optional), tamarind juice, a cube of ikan bilis (anchovy) stock and of course, a few cans of sardines.

Mix 2 tablespoons of chili powder and a small packet of meat (or fish) curry powder and add some water creating a paste (as shown above).

Depending on whether you like eggs or not, you can boil eggs and slice them gently with a knife and plonk them into the curry. Slicing the eggs allows the eggs to soak up the curry a little...I learnt this trick from my mother-in-law.

Chop your onions and tomatoes as shown above. Heat up a wok, add some oil and saute the onions until they become soft. Then add in your chili & curry powder paste and add a little more water until you reach the consistency you like.

Add some tamarind paste (assam jawa) and make another paste with water. Add in the tamarind water and remember to sieve this as the tamarind paste has loads of seeds. After this step, plonk in the tomatoes and bring the curry to a slight simmer.

Please be careful when you open your sardine cans, the ring to my can broke, which made it extra hard for me to open it fully. Also, look at the mess I made...

After the curry turns a shade darker, add in a cube of Ikan Bilis (anchovy) stock and you are all set! 

Voila! Sardine Curry, just like how my momma makes it!

Odissi

Dancers are athletes of God -Albert Einstein

Many people always ask me whether I prefer Odissi or Bharata Natyam. I always told them that there was a beauty in both and I love watching either forms but I think that my body is more suited for Odissi. Maybe my temperament better suits the languorous, sensual mood of Odissi. I sometimes feel that Bharata Natyam doesn't allow me to revel in a movement long enough, i can't stretch my body to its fullest before launching into the next step.

I've actually come to believe that Odissi may be present in my blood. The music itself gets my feet tapping and for the entire duration of the song, I am entranced. No one can catch my attention while I am lost in the world of its music.

The make-up is exquisite. The chitta (white dots) define your eyebrows, nose and chin ever so subtly. The antique silver jewelry add additional weight to your body and it restricts your body in such a way that adds to the authenticity of the movement. A headdress of flowers that resemble a halo around your sacred head making you look even more ethereal.


When you mention adding weight let's not forget our ankle bells. 50 little bells strung on a rope for each ankle, the tintinnabulation of the bells sets your mind to a time far, far away where once men were enticed by women who danced for them in their private harems. Passersby knew a women is present when they hear the distinct peals of bells jingling in the distance.

The subtle shift of weight only in the rib cage is a feat in itself. It requires pure articulation on the dancers part, and this asymmetry makes it even harder to balance. One needs pure focus, patience and agility to perform this form.

And if things are finally in control, the head and eyes automatically fall into place. The coy glances, ferocious valor and aching compassion can only be related via the eyes. They are after all windows to our soul.

Once  your body is strong enough to hold everything together, only then is the vehicle ready to run. And how does a vehicle run without fuel? The fuel that will drive this divine instrument is of course, the Bhava. Bhava comes from within and is the catalyst that creates the rasa you feel while watching a dancer.

Ramli always told me that when you dance, you are bearing your soul to the audience and I couldn't agree more. Didn't someone once say that "Art is the lie that tells the truth''?

When you are portraying a role, you are 100% committed to playing that role. You believe that you are in fact this character and and it is your duty to convince the audience that you have indeed transformed into the part we are supposed to play. And we all know that in any Indian story, there is never a singe character to a drama.

You are expected to be a white canvas and on this canvas are you supposed to create images of Krishna, Ganesha, Manmata, Parashurama, Ravana and so on...can you imagine how emotionally draining it must be to hop in and out of character like that?

String that schizophrenia with some technical dance steps and you've got yourself a 20 minute piece equivalent to a 20 km marathon. Nope not easy...

But everything is worth it when you are on stage. Aches and pains magically disappear when you are completely lost in dance. I mean, how can you experience stage fright when the stage was the safest place you know? I spent my life growing up on it.

Maybe that has kept me grounded, being honest and true, I mean, really doing art for art's sake because
after all, if you're a liar, you are bound to be caught one day...

The Ex Factor

I think it is safe to say that we can be categorised into 2 types of people. Those who get along with their exes and those who don't. I know which category I am in but I don't know how I got there. Perhaps I always felt that when you meet up with your ex its only because you miss the feeling of being together. I really don't understand how you can remain friends after being in a relationship.

Relationships are tumultuous, we'd fight and make up, I mean for that period of time, you wanted no one else. People always say that once you break up that's it, no more feelings involved. But how can you have absolutely no feelings for someone that meant the world to you. You can't control something like feelings, can you?

And at what point did the both of you break up? Didn't one of you break the other so far down to a point you couldn't even breathe? Who initiated? How can you remains friends after all that pain? Doesn't matter if you are the dumper or dumpee. Both parties will take their time to pick up the pieces left of their heart and just soldier on.

All of us cope the best way we can. We find solace in the arms another, some of us take a sabbatical, some of us find refuge in our friends, but whatever way we choose to cope, we shouldn't be judged by you or anyone else. Aren't we two single individuals trying to mourn the loss of someone?

I've personally hated the idea of staying in touch with an ex. It was messy and someone always got hurt. For the longest time, my heart will immediately sink into my stomach whenever I heard that my boyfriend got in touch with his ex. Meeting her was painful enough. But until recently, I always felt like I've been punched in the stomach anytime anyone even mentioned her name.

I have taken it upon myself to get over this horrible feeling by trying to sort out unresolved issues in my past hoping that by clearing out my baggage with help alleviate my issues with the present. All to no avail...

How do you get over an ex? Or how do you get over your boyfriend's ex? A lot of this has to do with your own relationships. I've come to understand that every relationship in your life is a chapter in your story book. They never merge and are separate parts of your life. Most of the time, when people are ready to accept the chapter, they almost never look back.

So as you enter a marriage for instance, all these little worry clouds seem to float away. And you are certain that you are his and he is yours. But what happens if you decide to part ways and get a divorce? And even worse still, you've both got a child together?

How much time do you give each other till you start dating other people? Will you allow your child to meet your ex-husband's new girlfriend? Will you allow your new boyfriend to meet your ex-husband? How does this work?

And what if your ex-husband marries his new girlfriend? Will you attend the wedding? Will you allow your child to attend their wedding? As his second wife, how would you cope with his ex-wife? Will you meet her? Will you keep your husband's wedding album with his first wife in your house?

All these questions have been swirling in my head as I learn about other people's lives and coping with their exes and I started to think that maybe worrying about ex-girlfriends was really not such a big deal at all.

A girlfriend or boyfriend, no matter how serious will never compare to a wife or husband. No matter how serious the relationship was there was obviously something lacking that prevented you from marrying each other and to me, that was the difference. You didn't spend countless hours with a guest list, arguing simply about who should sit where, whether you should serve chicken or beef, or go wedding band shopping together.

So now, this fly that has been bugging me for the longest time, seems to have vanished. My heart doesn't ache every time I hear of her and I don't roll my eyes quite as often as I used to.

Everyone I'm sure has their own weakness in a relationship and I think identifying it may be the first step to overcoming it. Time is definitely a huge factor in this and perhaps talking about it? When you marry someone, you need to start choosing your battles. You shouldn't be fighting about the smallest thing that irritates you because the both of you have decided to spend your entire lives devoted to each other.

So what in the world can you not discuss with him? Remember, a small little thing can become a puss-filled wound, which may eventually infect your entire relationship if it isn't resolved the moment it pops up.

To sum up, I'd like to share with you the lyrics to Adele's First Love.

So little to say but so much time,

Despite my empty mouth the words are in my mind.

Please wear the face, the one where you smile,

Because you lighten up my heart when I start to cry.

Forgive me first love, but I'm tired.

I need to get away to feel again.

Try to understand why,

don't get so close to change my mind.

Please wipe that look out of your eyes,

it's bribing me to doubt myself;

Simply, it's tiring.

This love has dried up and stayed behind,

And if I stay I'll be a lie

Then choke on words I'd always hide.

Excuse me first love, but we're through.

I need to taste a kiss from someone new.

Forgive me first love, but I'm too tired.

I'm bored to say the least and I, I lack desire.

Forgive me first love,

Forgive me first love,

Forgive me first love,

Forgive me first love,

Forgive me,

Forgive me first love,

Forgive me first love 

Make It Stop!

I don't know what it means to be a grown-up. Does it mean I have to do my laundry, pay water and electricity bills? Does it mean I can stay out late and party without worrying about my parents scolding me? Does it mean I start to realise that the beautiful world I lived in was an illusion?

I think that being a grown up means learning to stand on your own feet and that you have finally grown into the shoes made especially for you.

Naturally, when you stand on your feet for too long, they will start to hurt and eventually, you may even get blisters. Again, only because now, you've grown up and because you are no longer carried around, you will start to experience pain.

Pain, not present during childhood if some of us are lucky. Pain should only be reserved for grown ups because we know how to deal with pain. Yes, pain should only be reserved for grown ups.

But now that I am a grown up, I've come to learn that many of my own friends knew only pain as children. Womanising fathers, verbally abusive mothers, physically abusive fathers, molesting teachers...the list can go on. Did they deserve this? No. 

But they've learnt their own special way of dealing with it. A friend of mine told me that at times her father abused her mother, she'd start a conversation with God, "Hey God, mommy and daddy are only playing right? They're just showing me the wrong way to behave."

There shouldn't be a reason to show this to your child at such a young age. Someone told me that once you become a parent, saving yourself becomes secondary. All you should do is worry about your children and leave the second he raises his hand. No one, should allow their child to spend a second in an environment like that.

But what if I leave and he changes for the better? What will I tell my son if he asks me why I left his father? Why should I leave my children father-less only because he hurts me? It's not like he's hurting them.

He is hurting them. He is hurting their little innocent hearts. He is damaging their soul and they will grow up injured. What's worse? They don't even know it. Hurting them like this will affect them in school, career and future relationships. How can they trust anyone when they don't even know what trust is?

Certain laws don't allow divorce while a woman is pregnant in fear of her living as a single mother. But what happens if the husband is abusing his pregnant wife? What do you do then? Would you stay and endanger yourself and your unborn child?  

I understand that as a grown-up, life suddenly becomes different shades of grey. But when it comes to harming another person, I believe that there is only black or white. 

We're not living in Afghanistan or Iraq. We have a choice of whether we want to live in the warzone, they don't. We can choose to stay or we can choose to go.

Make it stop. Now that you are a grown up, take a stand. 

Don't do it for you, do it for them.

Trust

Trust. 5 little letters that make relationships last or otherwise. When you are born, you are born into a bubble. An indestructible bubble made out of the love of your parents. I grew up in a wonderful bubble filled with love, art and beauty and had the blessing of sharing this bubble with my sister Claudia.

Claudia wasn't the most ordinary of children. She had imaginary friends, a dramatic way of expressing herself and was my best friend. We'd share the back seats of my dad's Volvo on the way to the east cost, play silly word-games and sing-along to the music on the radio. However, when I grew older, I got other friends and Claudia didn't take this so well. She was very possessive of me and always tried to share me with my friends.

Like any other big sister, I always locked Claudia out of my room. I locked Claudia out of my room for many, many years and I truly regret it to this day. My parents added one more sibling into our bubble, our little brother Nathaniel. Claudia immediately became the middle child. Our parents and Nat moved away to Bangkok and Claudia and I transformed into 2 very separate individuals.

Throughout university, I was very busy balancing academics and dance. I had no time to take care of Claudia. She excelled in Uni, attaining Distinctions upon Distinctions. I was caught up in being a rebellious teenager and my family unit was shaken for the first time.

Claudia advised me endlessly, she never judged, she argued with me and listened tirelessly to my defense and sometimes even took my side. I remember being terribly angry all the time. My actions were at points even abusive. I did not know how to express my anger let alone control it. Yet, Claudia was always at my side. Supporting me, being there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on.

Slowly, I grew out of that horrible phase and started appreciating the people who really did 'have-my-back'. My family. I'm now trying to reciprocate all the love and care showered upon me by my dear Claudia.

I try my best to listen to your problems, hug you when you are down and cook you a warm meal so that you don't miss mummy so much. You were a star during the wedding and so, so happy for me. That was all I needed.

But as you grow, you start to realise that you should not allow just anyone into your bubble. Some people are out there, waiting to get in to try and destruct it from the inside but my mother has always taught me to erase these people from your heart and mind. When you have a negative feeling or thought about someone, you are planting a seed and every thought to this person fertilises this seed producing a huge tree of hate and everything nasty.

There are people who hold a grudge on you for no reason at all. I mean what can a harmless 15 year old do to a middle-aged mother and wife? Beats me...

There are people who are jealous. I've lived my life surrounded by incredibly green-skinned people but again, I take a deep breath and brush them away.

There are even people who start off by doing things for you only hoping to gain a ten-fold return. Why they help people in the first place never seems to puzzle me...

But if you are just a little sensitive to those around you, even you can start to tell the good apart from the bad. This distilling process may be tough, but once you are on the other side, you are filled with nothing but happiness and ease.

A few people were a little wary upon hearing that I would be getting married in less than a year after meeting Ray. But I remember how brutally honest we were with each other during on of our first dates and I instantly knew that I could trust my entire life with this man.

It's really all the little things that he does that makes me believe that he may never hurt me. From what I felt when we first met to what I know now, convinces me 150% that he never will. All because of 5 little letters...

Daddy Cool

Many know my father as James, Uncle James or Jimmy, I know him as Daddy. My daddy met my mom in Johor Baru at the age of 29 and had me at the age of 30. He has been the catalyst that sparked my interest in Indian Classical. Yes, my Chinese father was behind it. How very Malaysian.

 

My daddy is a hotelier and currently runs the Metropolitan in Bangkok. He started off in Hyatt Saujana, moved onto Merlin, then Concorde K.L and Concorde Shah Alam before he moved up north to Thailand.

My father was your typical Asian man, he brought home the bacon while my mom raised us kids at home. My earliest memory of him is sitting in our Proton Saga while he drove us home from dropping my mom off at Subang Jaya aiport. We always listed to Julian Lennon's Salt Water. Classic daddy moment for me.

As we grew older, daddy was always the plan B for my mom when we couldn't get Claudia to wake up. Though we rarely saw it, we feared his anger. We were always reminded not to speak at the dinner table and greet him at the front door when he came back from work. Yes, very, very Asian.

As more years passed, we saw my dad less and less, mostly because he worked further and further away. So every time my dad watched a dance performance I always became nervous because he would be my guest of honour. When I was younger and had stage jitters, my dad will always tell me not to think about the audience and just dance for my Grandfather (my mom's father, from Trivandrum, Kerala). He taught me from a very young age the meaning of humility and constructive criticism.

Nothing ever missed my dad's watchful eye. He'd always watch me like a hawk and would notice every single mistake I'd make. Receiving compliments from him, meant the world to me. 

After he moved to Bangkok, he brought along my mother and brother. I think moving our mother away made him feel a little guilty because after he left, we noticed a shift in him. 

He started being mushy and always ended a phone call by telling us he loved us. (note: I refer to us and we to my little sister Claudia and myself). We'd also started having 2 hour long dinners because we'd hear about each other's stories and catch up with what we'd missed. We started drinking together, which, was wonderful. Besides his extraordinary culinary skills, he also made the best lycheetinis.

He taught me how to appreciate flowers, furniture and simplicity. Maybe I just needed to grow into him and vice versa. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way though. 

I hope I've grown up into the person he wanted me to be and I would definitely raise my children the way he has. He always told me that I could do anything I wanted to do as long as I thought it through and would be there to catch me in case I fell.

And he really was always there, advising me when he needed to. He'd always find the best tone to speak in and chose the words that would make me understand the severity of my actions. He really should have gone into Public Relations.

I think that is the way we should be with our kids. Be firm and strict with them so that they'd know who was boss, and later on melt away that tough exterior and wrap your arms around them as they grow older and embrace them as your best friends.

I love you Daddy. Happy Father's Day!